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Chapter 13 - Wandering in the Waters (TCOK)
There was no doubt in Tubba’s mind that he was going to be transformed into a monster by the new regime in Gusty Gulch. It was a chastening feeling, but one that Tubba knew that he just had to accept. Still, that did not prevent another feeling from creeping into his daily life: despair. Throughout his childhood, Tubba had only ever wanted the best for Gusty Gulch. His ideas had been rooted in improving the livelihood of those who lived in Gusty Gulch, of raising the Clubbas back to the glorious place that they deserved. But despite this desire, all he met was resistance at every turn, and his best intentions were scoffed at. It instilled upon him a sense of hopeless, a worthlessness that even his best would not be good enough to satisfy the subjects who believed Chubba to be better. It was taken for a given for as long as Tubba could remember. No matter how hard he tried, how hard he fought to be given the same opportunity as Chubba, it would not be given. Tubba’s reputation would eternally be less than that of Chubba’s. That would be fine if Tubba felt that the reputation was fair or willing to change with progress. But the reputation had always been assumed, from the moment they were born. He wasn’t sure why that was - it always felt that Chubba had been given a head start, and the harder he tried to make it up, the further he ended up pushing himself back. It was all ruined now. His reputation was damaged beyond repair. Tubba knew that. There was no way he could ever go back to Gusty Gulch, with the throne now having passed him over and went to Chubba. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was a wanted fugitive, and had a bounty on his head for the Clubba Kingdom... the Kingdom he had always imagined he’d give his life for. It caused Tubba to toss and turn at night, in the room with the other members of his age group. He woke up in a sweat, the tears welling up in his eyes. How has it gone so wrong? He buried his head into his knees, knowing full well that was nothing he could do to change it. A spade must be called a spade, Tubba. He told himself that, but it didn’t stop his pounding heart from aching and murmuring it’s laments to him. Everything he had wanted as a child was gone, wrecked by his impulsivity and his desire to be given the same chance as Chubba. As the older of the two, things were expected of me from the moment I was born. The chances afforded to Chubba would not be afforded to me, simply because I was the older one and the future King. That contributed to the opinion that Chubba was more mature, and a better fit for King. The harder I tried to change that reputation, the worse it got, the farther back I set myself. Tubba placed a hand on his forehead, running his red hand through his steadily whitening hair. I’m nearly a Clubban adult. The age where I was supposed to start taking on some of the responsibilities of the King. Aware of the people sleeping around him, Tubba decided that it would be best to exit the room to get a handle on his emotions, rather than let the others hear. Staggering to his feet, Tubba felt the rocking of the ship under his feet as he stumbled to the stairs leading back up onto the deck. He had been shown around the ship on his first few days, meeting various people. Hardly remembering the names, Tubba had just nodded along as he had been told. He was grateful to the SS Mahruav for taking him in, but he wished he had been taken into a less public place, in which he would be allowed to reflect in private. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. I’ve always thought I’m Tubba Red Clubba Blubba II, heir to the throne of Gusty Gulch, the future Clubban King and the Clubba who would finally one day rise up to the legacy to Cloansar, our legendary first leader. Tubba thought as he staggered out onto the deck, the stars sparkling above, blanketing the dark night with pinpricks of light, a microcosm of his cluttered mind. I am not a Clubba Blubba anymore. Clubba Blubba was the name of the ruling house of Gusty Gulch. Tubba was sure that he would be legally disowned by Chubba, thus invalidating any future claim to the throne he may have. Tubba Red II, the Clubba who would finally one day rise up to the legacy of Cloansar, our legendary first leader. His reputation was in tatters. Tubba Red II. Tubba I was deceased. There was no need to call him Tubba Jr. or Tubba II in passing. Tubba Red. Is that all I am now? Tubba Red? Just a red Clubba with the name Tubba? Tubba took a glance at his red scales as he staggered over to the edge of the deck, glad that the deck was empty - they were in the virtually empty seas between the Clubba Kingdom and the Kremling Archipelago, which was to the east of Gusty Gulch. The Kremlings were embroiled in one of their yearly civil wars, thus preventing the deployment of ships in this area of the sea. My scales may well be red with blood. Tubba realized, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. Remorse was starting to come over the tragedy. I didn’t mean to do that, but it’s happened now. Tubba slammed his head onto the handrail bordering the deck, ignoring the light that flashed into his eyes alongside the pain. I don’t even have that sense of freedom anymore. The freedom he had leapt for. Tubba screamed. He let his emotions rock through him, echoing out in a cathartic, primeval shriek of anger, sorrow, despair, hopelessness, and grief. He screamed until he thought his internal eardrums would pop, he screamed until he felt his throat grow more and more dry, his breathing more and more shallow. It was a wordless scream, and a soundless scream. Who are you, Tubba Red? Everything you’ve ever wanted is gone. You’re orphaned. Everything is gone. The tears that continued to fall hadn’t left him, at least.